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« The soldier, tir'd of war's alarms,
Exults to feast on beauty's charms,

And drops the spear and fhield;
But if the brazen trumpet found,
He burns with conquest to be crown'd,

And dares again the field.”
Oh! be the example copied in each heart,
Let modern Britons act the ancient part,
And you, great Sir, these parting rites receive.
Which, bath'd in tears, your hardy veterans give;
Veterans approv'd, who never knew to yield,
When Howe and Glory led them to the field.
To other scenes your country's sacred cause
Now calls you hence, the champion of her laws.
Your veterans, to your brave fucceffor true,
By honouring him, will seek to honour you.
And ye, bright nymphs, who grace this hallow'd

ground, In all the blooming pride of beauty crown'd, Still strive to footh the hero's generous toils With what he deems his best reward, your smiles.


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Infecit æquor sanguine punico.


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To Lee I tune the heart-felt lays,
The southern beauties sing his praise,

Joy Alushes every charm :
-No more the throbbing matron fears,
No more the soft-ey'd virgin's tears,

Flow at each dire alarm.

Midst chiefs and sages nobly plac’d,
By Freedom's hand with laurels grac'd,

* TIMOLEOn-like aspire ;
Thy genius may their councils stamp
The dullest peasant in the camp,

Thy spirit lend a fire !

Yankies (tho' cowards) ply their guns,
And not a man the combat shuns


* This generous Greek consented to the death of his bro. thers, who had treacherously usurped the government of Co. rinth.---He afterwards delivered Syracuse from the tyranny of Dionyfius, and established its freedom. Vid. PLUTARCH,

Timoleon glories in his brother's blood, AKENSIDE.

For Parker's smoke and racket; At length the bold Sir Péter droops, Since vain his wish to float the troops

With bladders, and cork-jacket.

'Tis Lee who points the vengeful fire,
Britannia's shatter'd thips retire,

Yon boasting hero finches;
See in despair he drops his sword;
-For who could pass th' insidious ford

Which swell’d to feet from inches **

Negroes shall weep-(our good allies)
And with their Dunmore sympathise

For all these fad disasters : - They hop'd to dance round Charles-town flame, And purchase liberty with fame,

By murdering of their masters.

Your + British knives ye Indians stain,
Stab pregnant wives (to please G-R-E)


Gazette. + The Birmingham addressers have obtained a contract to supply the Indians with twenty thousand scalping and Atabbing knives of a new construction, invented by Signor BI, secretary to the Royal Academy.

And say each traitor's bab-by: With bleeding | icalps ye bishops come, (Whilst mitred Osna beats the drum)

To hang them in the Abbey.

Our generals shew their martial skill ;
They made a fight at Bunker's-hill ;

From Boston sneak'd away;
Our admirals too have gain'd renown
By burning many a fithing town,

Not in $ Nantasket Bay.


I Lord Dunmore only waits at New York till general Burgoyne crosses the lakes, and delivers him the scalps of the prisoners mafficred at the Cedars.---A commission has pared the Great Seal, empowering his lordship to receive them.---He is then to return home, and take his feat as one of the sixteen peers ; 'and will certainly recefve the thanks of both houses for his diftinguished conduct and bravery, in the service of his king and country --- The rebel scalps (hæc spolia opima) are to be consecrated and hung up with great solemnity in Westminster-abbey, on the 30th of January. --- The bishop of Osnaburgh has learnt to beat the drum, in order to attend the reverend bench, and to officiate in the procession with becoming grace and dignity.

Lord Holdernesse modestly intimated some apprehenfions, that his highness's morals might be corrupted whilt he remained under the tuition of a drummer of the guards.---The bishop complained of this to the prince of Wales, and lord Holdernesse was obliged to resign.

Ş“ The commodore Bankes (in Nantasket road) bore


When S-ND-CH hangs in satire's chains,
And S-CK-LLE's ghost haunts || Minden plains,

When history has damn'd 'em :
The muse shall consecrate thy name,
And give Lee to immortal fame,







THOUGH my friend General Burgoyne

' and his army have laid down their arms, yet they were invincible whilst they held them in their hands. This is my consolation-the campaign has not answered our expectations Ego & Rex meus are disappointed-One army being prisoners at Boston, and another army, shut up, in Philadelphia, are (it must be owned)


our fire, and returned it with great spirit, till a Mot pierced the upper works of his thip, when he immediately unmoored, cut his cables, and got under fail, with the whole fleet, confifting of eight ships, two snows, and one brig. In short, the enemy were compelled once more to make a disgraceful and precipitate retreat."-Boston Gazette.

# And haunt the places where their honour died. POPE,

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